A/N: Hey there! I would like to apologize for the lack of updates for the past months. It's been a hectic school year for me. Now, you're probably wondering why I'm rewriting my original story, Rescue Me. Well, it's because I've been suffering a major Writer's Block, so I wasn't able to write during those months i was silent. When i was rereading the original Rescue Me, it seemed a bit rushed and lacks the style that i currently have. Therefore, I decided to rewrite it so I can reinvigorate my mind and re-inspire me. So without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter and please leave a Review. More Reviews will boost up my inspiration and confidence.

Just a little warning: It's a lot darker than the Original one, so please tell me if i have to boost up the rating in case.


Hell…

No other words can describe Prisoner #240123's predicament…just plain hell.

She was alone…curled in a ball in a corner of a cramped, dank, and sunless prison cell—blocked by an impenetrable laser gate. She herself was filthy: her body frail, malnourished; her foggy, sapphire eyes have sunken into their eye sockets from the abuse and treatment; her prison clothes—although an orange, drab, one piece suit—was covered in grime, cuts, and her own blood and tears; her captors, in every sense of brutality, have tortured her—trying to pry valuable information from her.

The captors, malicious and warped, devised many cruel tortures to make her endure—from the standard to the perverse. They water boarded her, refusing to give her air to the extent of her lungs burning till the very last second. They poured an extremely irritant compound—stronger than pepper spray—into her eyes and forcing the substance down her throat, causing her to feel being burned alive. They tied her onto a board with her limbs tied to a wheel and axle mechanism each; they would crank levers that would stretch her limbs painfully to the extent of dislocating every single limb. Finally, the most recent and horrific act of her captors, they would restrain her to a table, stripped of her garments, with an array of objects and they would…

Her body tensed and her eyes shut tightly, reacting to the memory. A faint, muffled cry escaped her throat and her stomach lurched. She was violated—they violated her to get what they wanted. She felt dirty, unclean, her innocence taken away from her—she wanted to die, there and now after the incident.

However, her heart barely continues to be strong.

She would rather die before she will give up her friends.

The soft "pitter-patter" footsteps of one of her captors echoed through the quiet cell wing. The footsteps stopped at her cell and the laser gate suddenly was deactivated.

"Get up worm…" a deep, gravelly male voice croaked. It was her guard, coming to get her for "the daily routine."

Prisoner #240123's ears twitched at the voice, but she refuses to move from her corner. She growled menacingly slightly at the voice. Without turning around, her hand moves up above her shoulders and gives the one-finger-salute to the guard.

"Go…screw…yourself…you fascist…bug…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

This, of course, did not go well with the guard. In a split-second, the guard reached to the prisoner and brutally swung a baton at the side of her head. Once it connected, Prisoner #240123 felt sharp pain and saw stars. She screamed out in pain, swayed to her side, and collapsed to the ground from the pain. She gave out raspy breaths, trying to dull the pain as she regained her vision from the blow. In her vision, she saw her guard's insect like lower body and legs.

"Know your place…whore…" the guard growled menacingly. Prisoner #240123's eyes painfully move up and saw her guard's entire form. An insect and reptilian hybrid like body, big in frame, and wore a combat suit with shoulder mounted plasma cannons. His arms were long, and his hands were two very sharp claws. His head structure was the most fearsome: he had an oversized under jaw with large fangs from both upper and lower jaws protruding from his mouth. He had a permanent scowl and his eyes—oh his eyes—were a deathly yellow glow.

The prisoner's eyes watered with pain and fear as her mind recovered from the blow. Standing before her was a Cragmite Warrior—one of the elite forces in the Cragmite army. Cragmites are blood thirsty aliens that caused the eradication of several races millennia before. The Warrior's claw grabbed the scruff of the prisoner's neck in a vice grip, causing her to wince in pain. The Warrior then proceeded to drag the prisoner out of the cell. She had no energy to resist as her legs scraped against the cold, metal floor.

As the prisoner was dragged from her cell and onto the torture chamber, she encountered a number of the Cragmite race. From warriors, to hunters, and even to the lowly spawner, they berated her with demeaning insults.

Whore…

Bitch…

Slut…

Few even had the gall to say that she enjoyed the new, "kinky" torture and would gladly give it to her again…

The Prisoner's eyes clenched shut and tears threatened to leak out. Not due to the fact that a Spawner was chewing on one of her ears painfully. It was due to the horrid memories of her rape days ago; the feeling of being powerless—unable to stop them from violating her. Her eyes flashed open and her pupils compressed and she was physically shaking. A lone Hunter gave a toothy, devious grin as one of his claws tread dangerously up and down the Prisoner's inner thigh. The memories flashed in her mind, and she tasted something vile in her throat. In a split of a second, she purged out her bare stomach acid, as she was neglected food for the past few days. The Cragmites then boomed out in laughter at her misery. The Prisoner's ears drooped down to her skull and she shut her eyes, sobbing hysterically in pain, humiliation, and being nearly violated again. The prisoner's escort continued to laugh darkly as he continued to drag her by the scruff of her neck. Her knees and knuckles were covered in dirty scuffs from the unsanitary, metallic floor. If she were to get out alive, she would need several types of antibiotics to recover.

After what seemed to be an eternity to the prisoner, they reached the room of her current nightmares.

The room of her own version of deeper Hell…

The room where they mercilessly beat her down…

The room where they stripped her innocence away…

The torture room…

The prisoner knew what was going to happen to her. The Cragmites wanted to pry the information out of her again. As the escort began to painfully secure her into a chair, she tried to steel herself for the inevitable pain. She couldn't break—she refused to break. She didn't want to get her friends killed because of her. When the escort finished prepping the prisoner for her torture session, he proceeded to painfully punch her across the face. The prisoner felt considerable amount of pain, blood oozed out of her mouth and nose, but she refused to cry at the current situation.

Please…be strong…be strong for him… she mentally pleaded to herself.

The Cragmite, satisfied with the beating he gave her, ceased his assault and stare straight at her face with a sneer. The Prisoner's face was covered in bruises and cuts from the knuckles of the Cragmite. Her nose was broken and her lower lip was split, blood oozed from both wounds. However, there were no signs of tears on her cheeks. She held them in, filled with resolve and strength; she didn't want to give the Cragmites any more satisfaction to her pain. The Prisoner's tongue swirled around in her closed mouth, gathering as much spit and congealed blood she could. In an instant, she spat with all of her strength at the Cragmite's face. Obviously enraged at the act, the Cragmite slowly wiped away the mixture of blood and saliva and raised his hand, his sharp claws ready to shred her to ribbons.

"Enough." Another male voice boomed throughout the room. It was more gravely and hoarse than most of the other Cragmites in the area.

The owner of the voice soon emerged from the shadows from a corner. It was another Cragmite, but he was more weathered and had a deadly aura of a veteran that emanated from his form. His fangs were fractionally longer than most other of his fellow soldiers. His armor was covered with a collection of scuffs, bullet depressions, and several medals—testaments of his long time as a soldier. His face, unlike his fellow soldiers, was covered with harsh, gruesome yet healed scars.

The Prisoner's escort looked at the Veteran warrior with a small hint of disbelief. "General Lazaravich!" the escort exclaimed. "Why did you stop me? This bitch had the gall to—"

The General, Lazarevic, waved a dismissive claw at the soldier. "All in due time, Warrior..." he replied in calm, yet poisonous tone. His mouth slowly curved into a sneer as he added, "We want the torture to last, don't we?" The lowly soldier soon got wind of the message, his own mouth twitched into a cruel grin. Lazarevic then ordered to either side of him. "Get the water and the rags. One of you, hold her chair down."

Emerging from the shadows behind him were three other Cragmite Hunters. One held a small rag and the other had two 2 Liter water jugs with him. The third Cragmite went to the prisoner's chair and held it down from behind. The one with the rags went to her side and tightly covered her face with the rags. The Cragmite with the water jugs brought one with him to the other side of the prisoner and opened the cap. He looked at his General, silently asking him to proceed.

The General soon gave a small, brisk nod at the soldier. "Proceed."

All of them were chuckling as the one with the water slowly poured the water onto the rags covering the Prisoner's face. She began to thrash as the water dangerously began to drown her. The torture was similar to the classic waterboarding, but this one prevented her from blocking the water from entering her throat. Her air supply was efficiently blocked off as her vision began to fade as she suffered from oxygen deprivation. But before everything went black, the Cragmites stopped pouring water on her face and removed the rag from her face. She inhaled sharply, coughing and gagging on the water and her own blood that was mixed with it. Her lungs were on fire, every breath seemed to only make it worse as her lungs panged with more pain as she inhaled multiple times.

"Are you ready to talk?" Lazarevic asked, although a hint of his mind prayed not, so he could continue with the torture.

The prisoner panting soon abated and she glared at them with cold, steeled, sapphire eyes. "Go to hell!" she responded.

The General, partially filled with glee in mixed with his professionalism, motioned to his soldiers. They nodded and eagerly resumed pouring down the water on her rag covered face. They did this in intervals, each session was worst than the last. Her lungs were drowning from the water and her own spit and blood.

After the sixth time, she barely fought to keep consciousness as the rag was once again removed. Her face and her suit were drenched with water tinged with blood. She convulsed and coughed out water and vomited again soon after. Her captors, including Lazarevic, could only laugh at her pain, their voices echoed in the small room.

As soon as his laughter start, Lazarevic held his hands up, palms forward, signaling his men to cease their laughter. "Are you ready to talk yet?" he asked the Prisoner with his low, raspy voice. All she did was shake her head vigorously and gave them a leer. The General was soon intoxicated with glee as he was able to continue torture her. "Fine, then." He turned his attention to the other Cragmites in the room and ordered, "Get the battery, some jump-starter cables, Nano-tech, and a pair of nails. As long and rusty you can find."

The soldiers immediately imagined what the General had in mind, and they couldn't help but grin alongside each other as they did as they told. After a couple of minutes, they returned with the materials. They set the items in front of her, hoping to start some kind of reaction from the Prisoner. The nails were six inches long and were completely rusted from the tip to the head. The Nano-tech glowed an eerily, corpse yellow glow. She remained unmoved, deadpanned. The sight of the Nano-tech, what was once revered and a literal lifesaver, was unlike its other variations. This version lacked a certain chemical which acts as a numbing agent when the nanites began to move bone fragments back in place and reattach torn muscles and tendons. To her, it was another source of pain.

Lazarevic himself went up to the Prisoner and grabbed the pair of nails. With one in each hand, he lowered his maw so that was directly face to face with her. "Last chance: tell us where he is…or don't. It's more fun that way," he rumbled. The Prisoner gave no response, only continued to give her cold stare.

Lazarevic gave a small grin and, before the Prisoner could ready herself for the inevitable pain, drove each nail through her knee caps, each embedded five inches into bone, flesh, and muscle. The sudden action was a surprise to her; she didn't prepare for it enough. A piercing, loud cry of agony filled the room. Blood began to ooze out from her wounds as she fought back the tears that threatened to leak out. Lazarevic soon attached the metallic ends of the jump-starter cables to each of the nails and also attached the wires to the battery. The other Cragmites soon began to chitter around each other, knowing what the next torture will be and was anticipating the pain she will soon receive.

Lazarevic lowered his head again to stare at the Prisoner eye-to-eye. He gave a small smirk and in a low voice, grumbled, "Tell us what we want to know, then it'll be over."

The Prisoner wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, she spat with all her might at Lazarevic's face. Immediately, the other Cragmites rushed forward and were ready to beat her to an inch of her life, but Lazarevic held the back of his hand to them, signaling them to don't approach. He calmly reached into his pocket, removed a piece of cloth, and wiped the saliva off his face. As soon as he was done, he harshly, forcibly stuffed the piece of cloth down the Prisoner's mouth, effectively gagging her. Lazarevic calmly walked to the battery and, with a flip of a switch, turned the battery on low power. Electricity soon coursed through the Prisoner's body. She felt her body tensed and locked up from the energy and immediate, excruciating pain surged through her muscles. He head was thrown back against the chair, the veins around her neck bulged from the voltage. Her cries of pain were muffled from the rag that was stuffed in her mouth. After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually five seconds, Lazarevic flipped the switch off. The prisoner immediately hunched forward, panting through the cloth as she tried to catch her breath. Sweat and a few tears stained her cheeks, but she willed herself to stay strong.

Lazaravic soon returned to her side and removed the cloth from her mouth. "Still don't want to talk?" He asked. In return, the Prisoner once again spat at his face. Lazarevic had to admit: she was stubborn. Unfortunately, her stubbornness was chipping away at his patience. A small, yet hateful frown formed on his face as he forced the rag back down her throat. He immediately went back to the battery and flipped the switch to medium power. Electricity soon flowed through her veins; all of her muscles were once again painfully locked as her body shook uncontrollably with spasms and seizures. The veins in her neck once again bulged and her mouth was clenched shut tightly as muffled screams of pain escaped her gag.

After another 10 seconds of the painful experience, Lazarevic turned off the battery. The Prisoner went limp and hunched forward, her head drooped: the only signs of life were her shoulders shaking slightly with every breath she took. The General went up to her, pushed her head back so he could look directly into her face, and removed the gag. The Prisoner was barely conscious; her face was drenched in sweat and tears, eyes were red from the pain, blood continued to ooze from her broken nose and split lip. However, she continued to remain strong: she would not tell what the Cragmites wanted to hear.

Lazarevic soon knew of this as he studied her eyes. He slowly shut his eyes and sighed a bit. He wrenched out the nails from her knees, earning another ear-piercing screech. He picked up the Nano-Tech case and couldn't help but crack a smile as he released the Nanites into her. She tensed up and hissed in pain as the Nanites began to "repair" the damage that was done to her. She felt it all: the sharp fragments of bone that were forcibly weaved through her muscles and tendons, lacerating them as they did; the severed muscles and tendons that were manipulated painfully to reattach to their original strands; and the very irritating sensation as the wounds began to close. When it finished, she panted and sweat formed on her brow.

Lazarevic smirked a bit and murmured, "I have to admit, your stubborn resilience is quite impressive. I can tell that he might've fallen for you if he was still with you all the years that he has forgotten you." As soon as the smirk appeared, it vanished and was replaced with a hateful scowl. "But enough is enough. You and your friends have been thorns in my side for far too long…tell us where he is…or…" He raised one claw from his right hand and gently placed it on the hem of her collar underneath her throat. With a small tug, the claw cut through the fabric enough to show a generous view of her cleavage, making her squeak in shock and surprise. A small yet malicious, sick grin adorned his face. "I'll let my troops have their way with you."

That was the breaking point.

Fear and panic immediately filled the Prisoner's being. Her eyes were wide and her ears drooped to her skull. Her heart rate spiked immediately; she could feel the fast, loud beating of her heart against her chest.

"N-No! Y-You can't!" she cried out to them. The memories of the first incident flashed back into her mind; the pain, the cruelty, and the helplessness. "Please, anything but that!"

Lazarevic couldn't help but give a small victorious grin as he saw her panicking. His eyes idly rolled to his right to see his troops through his peripheral vision. He could see the perverted, lustful, and anticipating expressions on their faces. He returned his attention to the Prisoner and replied, "It's too late to back out now. You wouldn't give us his location. Now you will have to pay the price…"

"Angela Cross…"

Angela Cross, Bio-Medical scientist for Mega-Corp, and one of the last Lombaxes in their current dimension, couldn't help but be frozen in fear as the Cragmites slowly walked to her. Her breathing stopped, she couldn't breathe as they started to get closer. Her heart was pounding so fast and hard that it made her chest hurt and the others could hear it too. She began to thrash in her seat, but it was futile as the restraints kept her in place. She began to scream hysterically and tears flowed freely down her face. A Cragmite that was closest began to reach out with his claw, the perverted grin still adorned on his face.

In a wild sense of desperation, she finally broke.

"Veldin! Kyzil Plateau!"

She immediately clenched her eyes shut and turned away from them, expecting the inevitable act. She waited, but it never came. Confused, Angela opened one eye and peeked towards the Cragmites. Lazarevic had an obvious, victorious, wide smile. The other Cragmites shared his expressions as they halted their approach. Angela soon realized what she has done as her face paled.

"No…" She murmured; the gravity of the situation finally fell on her.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Lazrevic jested. He turned his attention to the other soldiers and ordered, "Spread the word, we have his location. Tell the troops to gear up and proceed as planned."

"Yes, sir!" they barked in return as they left.

Lazarevic soon turned back to Angela and said, "Congratulations…you helped us kill your best friends."

Angela was petrified. She didn't respond, she didn't look at him, she did nothing. Her eyes were filled with despair. Her body shook faintly from what she did. She did not notice the guard from earlier release her from the chair and took her back to her cell. She did not pay attention to the Cragmites, cheering at the General's success. Nor did she acknowledge the Cragmites continue to degrade her with insults and beatings. The only thing on her mind was about what happened.

No…I…I…betrayed him…she wallowed in her thoughts. I…I got him…k-killed…

They reached Angela's cell as tears leaked out from her eyes. The guard deactivated the laser gates and ungracefully threw her back into the cell. She didn't make a noise and didn't flinch as her body hit the ground. The guard could only laugh in pity as he reactivated the gates and left.

Seconds passed….then minutes…then an hour. Angela curled into a ball and hugged her knees close to her chest. With all her might, she wailed and screamed; tears flowed freely down her face. She made no attempts to stop them; she was too deep in despair and sorrow. Her cries and screams reverberated throughout her prison, which echoed mournful tones throughout the halls. After a few hours, her cries subsided, but she couldn't stop the tears from flowing. She no longer had the will to live. Her heart ached tremendously, and she knew it was all over. She could only pray for a miracle to happen.

Ratchet…please…forgive me…and…I hope Louis…is with you…to help… she prayed as she fell into a sorrowful, unmerciful slumber.